A (very) short family fluff drabble for you! Disclaimer: I'm Mbak Sanca. I'm pretty sure I don't own Hunger Games
The days when Katniss would scream for her mother to wake up, to take care of her and Prim, were long gone.
Katniss had long learned that her mother would never wake up from her grief-induced haze. So she had taken over the household. Her mother had no place caring for her anymore. Like it or not, though, she still was Katniss's mother, and sometimes it showed. Like now.
The morning of the reaping of the seventy-third Hunger Games had come. Admittedly, Katniss was nervous beyond words. Her name was in the ball sixteen times. That was nothing compared to Gale, though, his name in thirty times. Katniss was terrified for both herself and Gale, even though she would never show it. At least Prim wasn't in the reaping (yet).
After a morning of hunting with Gale, Katniss found herself sitting on her bed, looking frantically for something to wear. Finally, she settled on an old, faded floral-print dress of hers. She had worn it to the reaping two years ago. Thankfully, it still fit. Out of the corner of her eye, Katniss could see her mother stand in the doorway. "Mom," she said quietly.
"Katniss." For a moment, they just stayed where they were. "I drew a bath for you." Katniss was touched. "Thanks, Mom," she replied gruffly, standing up.
She scrubbed herself thoroughly, unable to get rid of the layers of grime that always coated her Seam skin. The dark-haired huntress managed to clean her hair before putting on her floral print dress. Sighing, Katniss brushed her hair. She had no idea what to do with it this year—clearly, her usual braid wouldn't be formal enough for the reaping.
"Let me do your hair," Mrs. Everdeen told Katniss quietly. Katniss jumped slightly. She hadn't seen Mrs. Everdeen come into the room. "Okay," the younger female agreed slowly, after a moment of hesitation. Mrs. Everdeen looked slightly wounded, but Katniss couldn't bring herself to really care.
Mrs. Everdeen led Katniss to the dining table. Katniss seated herself in one of the chairs. She felt Mrs. Everdeen pick up her hair. "Do you know what you're doing?" Katniss asked sharply. And in that moment, it didn't apply to just her daughter's hair. It applied to everything Mrs. Everdeen had been doing ever since Mr. Everdeen died—the way she was acting, what she was doing, how she was treating her daughters.
There was a pause. "No," the woman said at last, "no, I don't know what I'm doing." Katniss wanted to sigh, but kept it in as Mrs. Everdeen began doing something to her hair. Katniss swallowed down a feeling of apprehension. Hopefully, her hair wouldn't be a complete disaster when this was done with.
Finally, Mrs. Everdeen moved away from Katniss's hair. "There you go," she whispered. She handed her daughter a mirror. Katniss took it wordlessly. She had to admire her mother's handiwork. Her hair was braided like usual, but Mrs. Everdeen had somehow put it into a bun.
"It's—it's beautiful," Katniss whispered. "Thank you," she added, a lump in her throat. A sad smile spread across Mrs. Everdeen's face. "You're welcome," she whispered. What Katniss didn't know was that that was how Mrs. Everdeen had worn her hair during her wedding. Mr. Everdeen had loved that hairstyle, Mrs. Everdeen remembered…
"Your father would have been proud of you," Mrs. Everdeen said, impulsively and out of the blue.
Katniss wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. And it was times like this when for once, Mrs. Everdeen could actually resemble a mother to Katniss.